


Sharp-Dressed Man

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:48:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “You know if Singh doesn’t kill you, Joe will.”Leonard focuses on buttoning his shirt cuffs to hide a smirk. He’s fairly sure Barry sees it anyway. “And they can do nothing. Thanks to the Flash, I’m just any old law-abiding citizen, and it would be terrible press for an officer of the law to use excessive force against someone at their oh-so-fancy PR gala.”
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Comments: 7
Kudos: 292





	Sharp-Dressed Man

“You know if Singh doesn’t kill you, Joe will.”

Leonard focuses on buttoning his shirt cuffs to hide a smirk. He’s fairly sure Barry sees it anyway. “And they can do nothing. Thanks to the Flash, I’m just any old law-abiding citizen, and it would be terrible press for an officer of the law to use excessive force against someone at their oh-so-fancy PR gala.”

“Uh huh.” Barry sounds distracted. Leonard glances sharply up at him, knowing how weak his sweet speedster is for his blue eyes. This means he has the pleasure of watching Barry flush and glance away, hand slipping clumsily over his tie. 

“Here, Scarlet.” He straightens his own tie before stepping over to help with Barry’s. The moment he knocks Barry’s hands away, the kid’s breath catches in his throat. He pretends otherwise, but he’s deliciously vulnerable to reminders that Leonard is in control. This is precisely why Leonard takes his time tying a crisp Windsor knot, finding ever more excuses to brush his fingers over Barry’s throat and feel the jump in his pulse. “Let me.”

When he steps back, having tied the knot and smoothed the tie, Barry drags in a deep breath through parted lips. “Uh, thank you. Okay. Um, we’re not gonna be late to the thing, because Singh doesn’t need another excuse to kill us, although if we’re on time he might think I’m ill…”

“Or he’ll think I’m a good influence.” Leonard smooths his hands over his suit jacket. He knows how good he looks in a suit, and he can’t seem to get enough of drawing Barry’s attention to it. “After all, they can say what they like about me, but they can’t deny I’m punctual.” 

Barry nods. Leonard pauses to give him a deliberate once-over. He cuts a fine figure in a suit: the clean, simple lines make his long limbs look graceful rather than gangly and highlight his trim waist to great effect. Leonard will have to remember to send his compliments to the tailor. (Barry had been awkward and fidgety during the fitting, until Leonard finally had to convey entirely through facial expressions that if he could be good, he’d get a reward. The post-fitting blowjob in the dressing room had been as much a reward for Leonard as for Barry.) 

“You look good enough to eat, Scarlet,” he purrs. Barry blushes afresh, reminding Leonard of a final touch. It takes two seconds to fetch a ruby tie pin from the bedside table. When Barry raises his eyebrows, he says, “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” 

“You really are the worst,” Barry mutters. Leonard notes that he raises no real objection despite being entirely correct about the tie pin’s origins. 

Ten minutes later, promptly at seven, they arrive at the city hall. Leonard chivalrously offers his arm, and after a moment’s deliberation, Barry accepts. 

“Not just a free man, but one with a beautiful CSI on my arm.” He says it just to make Barry blush again, a job all too easy. The fact that it draws a ruffled look from the couple two steps ahead of them is a pleasant bonus. “I’m a fortunate man.” 

Captain Singh is waiting just inside the door to welcome guests to the gala. His face takes on a pinched look when he sees Leonard, as though he’s developed a sudden toothache. “Allen,” he asks, his tone deceptively conversational, “what are you doing bringing Leonard Snart to a police event?” 

Leonard smirks. “Relax, Captain,” he drawls. “I promise I’ll be on my very best behavior because, correct me if I’m wrong, you have no reason to detain me otherwise?” 

He hasn’t seen anyone’s face turn that shade of puce before. “You’re correct, but—” Singh jabs a finger at him “—if even a champagne flute is unaccounted for at the end of tonight, your file will be hastily reopened and I will press for the maximum time.”

Cute, that he thinks Iron Heights can hold him. Even the metahuman wing, challenging as it may be, would eventually reveal its weaknesses. “I promise, Captain, I have all the champagne flutes I could want. Barry, aren’t you going to introduce me around?” 

For fear of other officers’ wrath, ‘introducing him around’ involves standing in a corner for a few minutes, gossiping about everyone who passes by. Leonard recognizes Iris and Eddie Thawne, of course—Iris has warmed to him, Eddie less so—as well as Rachel and Osgood Rathaway, who, thankfully, don’t recognize him. He’s just shifted his attention to Mayor Bellows when Barry’s grip on his arm tightens. 

“Joe!” Barry’s voice achieves the high-pitched, startled tone it only takes when he’s trying to hide something. “Uh, hi, I was going to come say hi…”

Joe bypasses his foster son to grab Leonard by the tie. His expressive eyes are burning with fury. “You’ve got a lotta nerve showing up here.”

“Detective.” Leonard brings up both hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. “Remember, a certain mutual friend erased my record. I have as much right to be here as anyone.”

“Yeah, and that ‘mutual friend’ and I have had words about that.” Over Joe’s shoulder, Leonard sees Barry grimace. He knows (because they’ve had this talk before) that Joe has never laid a hand on his foster son. If he had, he would no longer have the hand. “What I’m a hell of a lot more concerned about is you showing up with my boy on your arm.” 

“Oh, Detective.” Leonard opens his mouth to explain further, but Joe cuts him off. 

“I don’t wanna hear it from you. I’ll hear it from Barry one way or another. All I have to say to you is: if you ever hurt him, I will personally ensure you spend your life in a cell in Iron Heights designed specifically for you.” 

Leonard can appreciate that. He can’t promise never to hurt Barry—he’s too cold, too opportunistic, not to—but it reassures him greatly that someone will stop him before he treats Barry as hellishly as Lewis treated him. “Understood.” 

His rage thus vented, Joe retreats. Barry snuggles into Leonard’s arms. “I’m sorry about that,” he murmurs. “I’ve been meaning to tell him. I just…haven’t.”

“What?” Leonard teases. “You don’t want to tell your foster father that the only reason I’m not in prison is that I’m _very_ good in bed?” 

Barry glares at him. It’s more cute than threatening, partly because he can’t quite manage not to blush. “That isn’t it! You’re not in prison because I believe you can be better, and I think you need me to believe that.”

He does. No matter how much he may disagree with Barry’s assessment of his character, hearing that he has the choice to rise above his now-destroyed criminal record is encouraging. He’s a better man for having Barry Allen in his life. That truth goes unspoken; instead he teases, “And the sex is good.”

Barry ducks his head and agrees, “And the sex is good.” 

The rest of the night, Leonard keeps his promises to Singh and to Joe. The former is significantly more difficult; half a dozen times, he has to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop them from wandering. It’s not malicious, merely habit. Thankfully, every time Barry sees him tuck clenched fists in his pockets, he catches his hands and rubs warm thumbs across the knuckles. One such time, with Leonard’s hands clasped tightly in his, Barry offers, “We could dance. I mean, I have two left feet, but we could dance.” 

It’s an appealing idea, particularly because the ‘dancing’ that goes on at such galas involves holding someone close and swaying in place. Leonard will never object to a chance to hold Barry close. “Don’t worry,” he assures him. “It isn’t really dancing.”

“Can you ‘really’ dance?” 

Just to tease, Leonard spins him around before pulling him close. Barry gives a delighted little giggle and presses against him. “Well,” he says, nudging his nose against Barry’s, “I’ve got the moves, but I wouldn’t want to boast.” 

“I would ask you to show me, but then I’d just embarrass myself trying to keep up.” Barry settles one hand on Leonard’s shoulder. Leonard braces a hand against the small of Barry’s back and laces the fingers of their free hands together. 

“This is fine,” he says. Behind them, the band plays something slow and sweet. It’s all too easy to sink into the soft strains of music, relax into Barry’s arms and forget himself. “Better than fine.”

Barry presses the briefest of kisses to Leonard’s cheek. He feels the lingering warmth before registering the touch of lips. “Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs. “I was kind of afraid you’d, you know, try to piss off Singh or Joe and get yourself arrested.”

“I’m not rash, Scarlet.” Leonard nuzzles along Barry’s jaw. He feels the stutter in the kid’s rapid pulse and can’t resist kissing the tender skin of that pulse point. “I want to enjoy tonight with you.”

When, at the end of the dance, no champagne glasses are missing, all the guests have their valuables, and no one is grievously injured, Singh permits Leonard to leave with a curt nod and a glare. Leonard wraps his arm tightly around Barry’s waist and returns the nod with a smirk. He can be a perfect gentleman when it suits him, and right now, with a pretty CSI on his arm, it suits him just fine.


End file.
